Reading Harry Potter Book 1
by The Ravenclaw F. Hornist L'99
Summary: While strolling through Hogwarts, Umbridge finds 4 books all about a certain black-haired boy's life. She then goes to tell everyone about all of Harry's secrets, but there are some surprises that nobody would have guessed about. Umbridge is not a teacher, OOC Voldemort, minor child abuse
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Let's see. I'm not blond, filthy rich, and a published author. So…nope, I'm not J.K. Rowling and I don't own Harry Potter. **

Summary: While strolling through Hogwarts, Umbridge finds 4 books all about a certain black-haired boy's life. She then goes to tell everyone about all of Harry's secrets, but there are some surprises that nobody would have guessed about. Umbridge is not a teacher, OOC Voldemort, minor child abuse

**Book writing**

"Talking"

Book Titles

Prologue: Finding the Books-

Headmaster's Office

"Ah, Cornelius, Dolores! What a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you?" Dumbledore was curious about what they wanted.

"Ah well, you see, we have in our possession 4 books that we would like to read to everyone about Harry Potter." Cornelius and Dolores were smug. Finally, a way to show everyone how much of a liar Harry Potter is!

Dumbledore's eyes widened in horror. He knew that there was no way for him to say no, considering that if he did do that he could be fired, leaving his precious school in Ministry hands.

"Fine, let us go."

Harry Potter's POV – The Great Hall

I sighed softly, what now? Ron and Hermione are looking curious about what the announcement is all about, as is everyone else. I see Fudge and that toad like woman all dressed in pink who was at my hearing up in front of the teacher's table, looking smug.

"Hem-Hem." Oh god, she has the worst voice ever!

"It has come to my attention that there are four books about a certain liar that need to be read."

My heart nearly stopped at those words. They had found my diaries. I stood up in rage, ready to yell at them for invading my privacy, when that awful voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Mr. Potter, do sit down. You don't want detention, do you?"

I sat down, glaring at them. "This is an invasion of my privacy!" I snarled, furious.

She only smiled sweetly at me, and I bitterly thought that Fudge and Umbridge were lucky I wasn't a basilisk, because they would have been 6 feet under a long time ago.

I glanced up at the staff table, mentally begging them to help me, but I only got pitying looks from most of the staff except Snape- who just sneered at me, and the new Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher –Jasper Lloyd Rhys– who gave me a curious look.

"Well, who will read the first chapter?" The toad asked sweetly. Professor McGonagall growled as she snatched the book from Umbridge's grasp and said "I will." Fudge and Umbridge smirked at me as I slumped in my chair, and resigned myself to a very long day ahead of me.

**So, how is it? If you are wondering, Voldemort is the D.A.D.A. teacher. My inspiration for his name is from James', Lily's, and Harry's names. Jasper has some of the same letters as James, Lloyd has some of the same letters in it as Lily, and Rhys is part of the name Harry.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Let's see. I'm not blond, filthy rich, and a published author. So…nope, I'm not J.K. Rowling and I don't own Harry Potter. **

Summary: While strolling through Hogwarts, Umbridge finds 4 books all about a certain black-haired boy's life. She then goes to tell everyone about all of Harry's secrets, but there are some surprises that nobody would have guessed about. Umbridge is not a teacher, OOC Voldemort, minor child abuse

**Book writing**

"Talking"

Book Titles

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived

"Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone". McGonagall read the title out loud. "Chapter 1- The Boy Who Lived."

Harry's face twisted into a bitter smile at the reminder of his title. Most of the Slytherins sneered at Harry, and his friends just gave him sad smiles.

**Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.**

"Normal is so overrated, don't you think Harry?" Harry smiled weakly at Ron's attempt to cheer him up.

**They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.**

"What are drills?" One of the Slytherin purebloods asked. "Write it down! I will explain at breaks." Said Professor Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies Teacher.

**He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.**

"Attractive" Ron laughed

**The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.**

"Oooh! I love secrets, don't you agree Forge?" "Yes Gred, I agree with you. Secrets are so interesting and fun to find out!" Almost everyone cracked up at that.

**They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.**

"Nothing's wrong with the Potter's! Something's wrong with them!" Ginny exclaimed, then blushed as everyone looked at her in surprise. Harry gave Ginny a smile, and she felt herself blush even more.

**Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.**

"That's a good thing too." Harry muttered under his breath

**The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.**

"Pity." Harry snarled

**When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.**

"Who picks out the most boring tie?" Someone asked. "He does." Harry said softly

**None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.**

**At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.**

**"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.**

"They encourage that type of behavior?" Madam Pomfrey asked shocked. Harry just nodded his head in a yes.

**He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.**

**It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.**

"Professor McGonagall can!" Cried all of the Gryffindors.

**Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.**

**But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.**

"What's wrong with wearing cloaks?" Draco demanded. "Muggles haven't worn them for a long time" Hermione explained.

**Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road**

"What!?" Harry exclaimed, shocked.

**to buy himself a bun from the bakery.**

"For a moment I though the world was about to end" Harry said in relief, wiping mock sweat off of his forehead. Everyone laughed at that.

**He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.**

**"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —"**

**" — yes, their son, Harry —"**

**Mr. Dursley stopped dead.**

Harry scoffed "If only" he muttered bitterly. Professor Rhys was the only one who heard him, and just gave him an odd look.

**Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.**

**He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.**

"Hmmm… you know Gred, I think Harry is more of a Harvey, don't you think?" "Harvey James Potter, has a certain ring to it." Harry laughed in amusement.

**There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if he'd had a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…**

"How dare he…" McGonagall snarled. "Minerva, calm down. They don't deserve your anger." Flitwick tried to calm his friend down. Giving the book one last dirty look, she continued to read

**He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.**

**"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"**

**And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.**

Harry stared at Professor Flitwick in shock. "You're…you're arms fit around his middle?" Flitwick chuckled at that as he said amused "Yes, but it was a struggle." Everyone laughed at that.

**Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.**

**As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.**

**"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.**

**The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.**

"Oooh! He got the Number Uno Stern Look of Doom™!" Lee joked. The laughter increased as Snape glared at McGonagall for stealing his glare, and received a raised eyebrow in return.

**Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered.**

"Nope! Not at all!" Someone exclaimed

**Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.**

**Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:**

**"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"**

"Ted Tonks seems to be having a lot of fun!" Harry said, remembering Nymphadora.

"**Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."**

**Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…**

**Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"**

**As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.**

"Didn't have a sister my arse." Poppy snapped, angry

"**No," she said sharply. "Why?"**

**"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"**

**"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.**

**"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."**

"Our crowd!" Several students said, annoyed

**Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"**

**"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.**

**"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"**

**"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."**

**"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."**

"Harry's not a nasty name!" Ginny snarled at the book, angry.

**He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.**

**Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it.**

**The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect them…**

**How very wrong he was.**

"The night has only just begun!" Hermione sang.

**Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.**

**A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.**

**Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.**

"Dumbledore!" Almost all of the students exclaimed except the Slytherins

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.**

"Oh, I knew from the start, I just ignored it." Dumbledore said amused, his blue eyes twinkling.

**He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."**

**He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.**

**"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."**

**He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.**

All the students laughed as they imagined a ruffled McGonagall.

**"How did you know it was me?" she asked.**

**"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."**

**"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.**

Everyone laughed again at that

**"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."**

Hagrid wiped away a tear "Not everyone was celebrating, Harry." Harry smiled in thanks at Hagrid.

**Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.**

**"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."**

**"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."**

"The war went on for 11 years?" One of the students asked, surprised. "Yes, indeed it did." Dumbledore replied, sad.

"**I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."**

**She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"**

**"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"**

"A what?" Harry asked, confused.

**"A what?"**

Everyone laughed at Harry's similar thinking with the Gryffindor Head of House as Harry blushed.

**"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."**

**"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —"**

**"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."**

Most of the hall flinched at the name, except Harry and Dumbledore.

**Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."**

Everyone flinched again.

**"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."**

Harry stared at McGonagall in shock. "You said his name?" The professor gave Harry a small smile "Only that one time, Harry."

**"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."**

**"Only because you're too — well —noble to use them."**

**"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."**

All the students giggled at that, and Madam Pomfrey blushed.

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"**

**It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.**

**"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."**

Several of the staff members bowed their heads, silently crying, and Harry put his head down on the table, tears soaking his face.

**Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.**

**"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"**

**Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.**

**Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."**

**Dumbledore nodded glumly.**

**"It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"**

**"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."**

**Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"**

**"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"**

**"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."**

**"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"**

Harry lifted his head and gave McGonagall a watery smile, which she returned.

**"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."**

"A letter!" Several girls shrieked, outraged.

**"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!"**

Harry glared at the hall "I forbid any of you from celebrating Harry Potter day!" Snape sneered at Harry, convinced Harry loved his fame.

**"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"**

**Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.**

"Ewwwww!"

**"Hagrid's bringing him."**

**"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"**

"I didn't mean it like that Hagrid. I trust you with my life." Minerva hastily exclaimed.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life." Harry immediately exclaimed

**"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.**

Hagrid smiled weakly at both Harry and Minerva in thanks.

"**I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"**

**A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

**If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.**

"Hagrid!" All of the Gryffindor's shouted.

**"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"**

**"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."**

**"No problems, were there?"**

**"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."**

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.**

"Awwwwww!" Most of the girls exclaimed. Harry blushed at that.

**"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.**

**"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."**

**"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"**

**"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."**

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.**

**"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

**"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"**

**"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"**

**"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor**

**McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets,** and cast several spells which Minerva recognized as a notice-me-not spell, a warming spell, a sleeping charm, and several other ones she couldn't identity, **and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.**

**"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."**

**"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."**

**Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.**

**"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.**

**Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.**

**"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.**

**A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!"**

"Who wants to read next?" Umbridge sweetly enquired. Professor Rhys held out his hand and said softly "I'll read next."

"Chapter 2- The Vanishing Glass."


End file.
